Football or Boil Lancing … hmmm?
imageSee the grey-haired, gooey-eyed teenager on the right? That’s my husband Andrew blushing like a school girl in the presence of Toronto Argonaut Quarterback and Grey Cup Champion, Ricky Ray.
For you American gals without “Argo Awareness” as a clause in your marriage contract, here are some cross-border football equivalents, as offered by a cross-borderline Canadian fan:
CFL = NFL (ooo, ouch … sorry ardent football fans)
Grey Cup = Superbowl (not just a post-toilet cleansing observation)
Football = husband inaccessible for 4 hours, no matter what country you live in.

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Pool It Together


“LOOK Mama, LOOK!” Delia demanded as she plunged into another frantic underwater handstand.  Had there been a lifeguard within eyeshot, a full-blown rescue would have ensued.  I offered my requisite clapping from the poolside deck.  Read more

Colony Caper


Ants.   The word itself invokes that “who invited YOU?” feeling as you lift your feet.  But unlike Wilma Flintstone, I can basically deal as long as they don’t show up in my potato salad or my bed sheets.

But this morning they really crossed the line.  As I grabbed my laptop off the table of the v-e-r-y rustic cottage we’re currently vacationing in, I saw an ant run for his life directly into the vent holes at the back of my Macbook Pro.  For real.

Great.  Thanks ant.  He’s now taken full control of my cursor AND my keyboooord asdfiej af (oops, there he goes …)

Asfoewen laas wefk  … ANTS RULE!

(Ok, he is SO getting the service bill for this.)

Slippery Slope


In our family, the last day of school not only marks the beginning of that parental oxymoron, summer holidays, but it’s also the eve of our annual road trip to the magnificent, cascading waters of Niagara Falls.  Of course, I’d be referring to the six-story indoor waterpark at the Skyline hotel.

What was originally a one-off end of school celebration in 2008 has since become a seasonal tradition for my kids.  Yet from their perspective, the splendor of Canada’s Horseshoe Falls is but a soggy second compared to Fallsview’s manmade rapids shooting down winding fiberglass slides with such fitting names as Kamikaze, Sky Screamer and Canyon Drop. Read more

iMessage Loud and Clear


I’ll admit it; I caved.  My eleven-year old son Bodie has been angling for an iPhone for the better part of two years.  He repeatedly recites the list of friends who, by the age of nine, had been given cell phones of their own, then caps off his performance with a soulful rendition of that tearful ballad “I’m The ONLY One Who Doesn’t Have One”.  While I don’t want to hold my son back, I never enrolled him in the Junior Executive Program, so I didn’t see the point in giving him a phone back then.

But last month he started walking to and from school on his own, exposing a little known philosophy I held deep within me:  Offspring cannot be out of eyeshot, even for the twelve-minute walk to school, without access to parental supervision.  Ok, I’ll OWN it!  I feel better knowing I can reach him, or moreover, he can reach me, if needs be.  After all, it’s not the same world we grew up in (yup, I just officially became my mother.) Read more

C’est WHAT?

Wait For It

Last Friday I woke up in Paris.  Oh, not literally.  And sadly, not to the café latte and sinful croissant I should have been offered, given the circumstances.  At 6:55 a.m. my nine-year-old daughter Delia burst into our room and sounded this verbal alarm:

MAMA!”  Bang… consciousness.  “You did remember this is the day I have to hand in my Paris project, right?!”

WHAA…?  Dislodging the second earplug from its canal, I tried to piece together the vast lapses in memory that had brought me to this frenzied start to my day. Read more

Mother Knows Dressed


Every spring, as I put away my drab, colourless winter wardrobe and pull out my drab, colourless short sleeved one, I look to my children’s closets to give me that fashionista-fix that, apparently as a woman, I’m hardwired to need.  Truth be told, I’ve never enjoyed shopping for clothes for myself, particularly after having had babies.  Of course, my littlest bundle is almost 483 weeks, so I’m sure those extra 15lbs should fall off any day now. Read more

50 Shades of Grey… Hair

50 Shades of Grey Hair

Summer 2013 is barreling down on me fast.  Beyond the usual “How in God’s name am I going to fill TWO WHOLE MONTHS with my kids?”, I’m consumed this year by a far greater lament.  On July 30th, I will turn fifty years old.  F-I-F-T-Y years old.

I’m not sure who coined the phrase “fifty is the new thirty”, but chances are they were pretty hopped up on Botox when they said it.  Believe me, I’m happy to have reached this milestone in one piece, but my chassis could sure use an oil n’ lube at this point.

When I look back on my mother at this age, she was squeezing herself into a latex girdle and shellacking her beige hair into a carbon fiber dome every morning, so I guess by comparison, I’m keepin’ it real.  Of course, I have been known to use a little hairspray from time to time… Read more

A Mother’s 10 Step Guide to Explaining the Fact of Life to Her Son

Step 1:  Stock up on wine.

Step 2:  Choose just the right time to broach this sensitive topic.  Timing is everything, so don’t deliver your dissertation while on the 3-minute walk to school.  Allow more time and careful consideration than you took for conception.

Step 3:  Choose a comfortable setting in which to connect with your son.  While a discussion from the front seat of the car offers the tempting avoidance of eye contact, the risk of driving into oncoming traffic is greatly increased. Read more

Bike To The Future


If you’re anything like me and haven’t used your bike as a means of transportation since you were in grade school, then hold onto your handle bars; the cycling culture has changed a bit since we were kids.

Two months ago I was driving my car up a gentle mid-town incline when the accelerator began to choke, sending clouds of blue smog billowing out the tailpipe.  Within an hour, my car was up on the hoist at our dealership, receiving its dismal diagnosis:  defective crank case, possible new piston rings and head gasket, blah, blah, car talk, car talk.  What was clear to me was the fact that I was going to have to find an alternate means of transportation until the coverage on my warranty, painstakingly outlined in 6pt font, could actually be deciphered, and hopefully, bled dry. Read more